Klaine Week 2012
by EloquentMisprints
Summary: Tuesday: AU Klaine. Hollywood is full of lies and deceit, just ask the current 'it' couple, Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson, they'll tell you that you don't have to like each other to take over Tinseltown. Rated for swearing and foul language.
1. Monday: BabyKid Klaine

Klaine Week

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of its characters... or Power Rangers.

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><p>Prompt One: Klaine as KidsBabies

"One more day away from the shop won't kill me," Burt Hummel mumbled, glancing at his wife with pleading eyes, "Stan's got everything covered." Elizabeth sighed and flicked on her turn signal, eyes darting to the rearview mirror, the reflection an image of her three year old son playing with his shoe clad feet and giggling.

"We could just sign it over to him," she quipped, "Milano's Tire and Lube has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"I just don't think it is necessary that he goes to daycare." Burt argued, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering out the window. A break in traffic allowed Elizabeth to maneuver the van into the daycare parking lot.

"I suppose he shouldn't go to school either, Burt?" his wife inquired as she pulled into an empty parking space and put the car in park.

"That isn't fair, Elizabeth." He snapped, running a hand through his thinning hair. Elizabeth turned in her seat, resting a palm on her husband's forearm.

"I have to go back to work, honey, unless you'd rather we live in the refrigerator box that Kurt plays spaceship in." she reasoned with a heavy sigh.

"Spaceship go vroom, vroom!" Kurt exclaimed from the backseat, "Vroom, vroom mommy. Vroom, vroom daddy." The toddler squealed and kicked his feet excitedly, flinging his Power Ranger action figure across the seat.

"Vroom, vroom baby." His parents echoed. Burt scrubbed a hand over his eyes and glanced over his shoulder at his son.

"He's getting so big," he whispered.

"Kurt's big boy!" Kurt sing-songed, "I'm a big boy, right daddy? Right?"

"Yes, you're a big boy, sweetie." Burt responded with a smile, "You're growing up way too fast, buddy."

"Big boys go to daycare, right? I go to daycare?" Kurt asked with wide eyes. Elizabeth shot her husband and pointed look and turned off the car. Burt sighed and unbuckled before going around to the other side of the van and taking Kurt out of his car seat. Elizabeth pushed open the door and the sound of excited children met Burt's ears, his son's eyes widened in awe as he attempted to wiggle out of his father's grasp.

"You must be the Hummel's," a young, blonde woman panted as she peeled a toddler off of her legs and placed them on her shoulders, "I'm Amy."

"Nice to meet you," Elizabeth greeted with a smile as Burt grunted in response. Kurt whined and attempted to free himself from his father's arms again, pouting when he couldn't get away. Amy motioned for the family to follow her, laughing when another child latched on to her leg.

"He can go ahead and go play while you sign him in, if you want." She explained with a flick of her wrist, "It's not a big deal or anything." Burt tightened his arms around his son as he took in the large, child filled room.

"Down, daddy, down." Kurt whined, "Please." He added as an afterthought. Burt planted a kiss on the wriggling toddler's head before lowering him to the ground and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I love you, buddy," he murmured, ruffling his son's hair. Kurt scrunched up his face and hugged his mother's legs before venturing further into the room. Several older boys chased each other around the large room, narrowly avoiding toys that had been scattered about by other children. Kurt clutched his Power Ranger to his chest with one hand and waved frantically at his parents with the other before hurrying across the room toward a Playskool kitchen set. A toddler with short, curly hair was leaning over a wooden baby doll crib, humming softly.

"Can I play?" Kurt asked quietly, hesitating just in front of the striped rug. The toddler whirled around quickly, a finger pressed to his lips.

"Sleeping," he whispered, gesturing to the doll in the crib. A timer on the play stove dinged and the curly haired boy clapped a hand over his mouth before rushing over and opening the oven door. The boy removed a plastic tray from the oven and placed it on the Playskool table.

"Sit," he murmured, pulling out a chair for Kurt before taking his own seat.

"My name is Kurt," the pale boy announced as he sat down and lifted a plastic teacup, filled with the best imaginary tea, to his lips.

"Blaine," the curly haired boy replied with a grin, "and that's Bea." Blaine pointed to the doll in the crib.

"Like patty cake?" Kurt inquired with wide eyes, "That's so cool!" Blaine smiled proudly and puffed out his chest. Kurt poured his friend another cup of tea and Blaine dropped an imaginary cookie on the pale boy's plate. Blaine's cup clattered down onto his plate and he jumped in his seat.

"Bea's crying!" he exclaimed, widening his eyes dramatically.

"Oh no! She wants daddy!" Kurt pointed out, "Go!" Blaine shook his head and looked around the play space frantically, grinning when he found one of the many princess rings that the girl's hand brought over from the dress up area.

"Here," he murmured as he slipped the ring on Kurt's finger, "Me daddy one, you daddy two. Now Bea wants you too." Kurt bit his lip and scooped the doll from crib. Blaine looked at the sticker clock stuck to the plastic microwave and gasped.

"Time for work," he announced, "you stay with Bea." He tugged on a small suit jacket and tie before placing a hat on his head.

"I cook dinner," Kurt told him, cradling Bea to his chest. Blaine kissed the doll on the top of the head.

"Bye, sweetie." He murmured and pressed a kiss to Kurt's cheek like his daddy did to his mommy every morning. Kurt blushed and ducked his head before wishing Blaine a good day at work and putting Bea to bed. Kurt liked being daddy number two… especially if Blaine was daddy number one.


	2. Tuesday: AU Klaine

Klaine Week 2012

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, any of its characters, or Ryan Seacrest.

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><p>Prompt Two: AU Klaine<p>

Kurt Hummel dropped his sunglasses lower on the bridge of his nose and cocked one perfectly manicured eyebrow, crossing one leg over the other as he slumped farther down in the backseat of the limo.

"I don't like you," he snapped, clicking his tongue and pushing his glasses into place again to cover his icy glare.

"You're an asshole," his companion responded as he removed a beer from the minibar and popped off the cap. Kurt rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his margarita, humming as the alcohol burned his throat.

"You're a prick." He shot back, snagging himself another margarita and propping his foot up on the seat across from the other man. The privacy window slid down and the driver shot both men accusatory looks.

"We are nearing our destination," he announced, "May I suggest you both tone down the hostility before we arrive?"

"Fuck off, Jeeves." The other man growled around his beer, "We have it covered. May I suggest you just do your job and drive the damn car?"

"As you wish, Mr. Anderson." The chauffer bit out, his chest heaving with repressed anger as he slid the privacy glass back into place. Kurt clicked his tongue again and took another drink of his margarita.

"Didn't your parents teach you any manners, _Blaine_?" he asked, pursing his lips and setting aside his drink, "Didn't they tell you that to respect your elders?" Blaine shifted in his seat so that his face was level with Kurt's, one hand snatching the glasses off of the pale man's face while the other kept him from toppling to the floor.

"Some of us didn't have our daddy's dictating our every move," he hissed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "but that's just completely unfathomable to you, isn't it _pretty boy_?" Kurt swallowed at the proximity, his elbow knocking into the other man and sending him crashing onto the floorboard of the limo.

"Whore," the darker haired man snapped as he climbed back onto the seat, inspecting his arms for any injuries and rubbing his hip.

"Bitch," Kurt sniped back as the limo rolled to a stop and the locks clicked. In a matter of seconds the door was opened and the pair was assaulted by photographers as they were ushered onto the red carpet hand in hand.

"Kurt, Blaine, over here!" a report called from behind the velvet rope. Hands stretched out toward the pair, fans screamed at the top of their lungs hoping to grab their attention, photographers yelled for them to strike poses. Ryan Seacrest waited patiently for their publicists to guide them over, tossing the microphone between his hands as they finally were instructed to speak with him.

"Look who's decided to join us," he directed the cameraman toward the two men, "The men of the hour and Hollywood's 'it' couple, Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson. How are you tonight boys?" Kurt blushed and looped an arm around Blaine's waist before speaking.

"We are phenomenal, Ryan. I am truly stunned that this is all for us, it's just so humbling!" he exclaimed, grinning widely at the camera, "Who would have ever thought that little old me would make it big in Hollywood, Broadway maybe, but never LA. Now, Blaine here, I never had any doubts about him, he is just so incredibly talented, it's unbelievable."

"You two are just adorable," Ryan gushed, laughing quietly, "What's on your mind, Blaine? What do you think of your man's overnight success?"

"I am so incredibly proud of him. He is a truly inspiring person and it was an honor to work with him on this movie, it's kind of nice being able to take him home at night too." He responded with a chuckle before pressing a kiss to Kurt's cheek.

"I'm proud of you too, baby," the paler man murmured, nuzzling the other man's nose and grinning.

"I want you to be," Blaine whispered, his voice choked and his eyes filling with tears. Kurt leaned in and kissed him chastely before pulling away and directing his attention back at Ryan and the camera.

"We should probably head inside and make sure everything is set up," he announced with a small smile, "It was lovely talking to you though."

"Congratulations," Ryan called after them before wrangling in his next celebrity. Twenty-something interviews and 30 or so congratulations later the pair was finally behind their closed (and locked) dressing room door.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Kurt snapped, pushing Blaine away from him and snatching his suit off of the garment rack. Blaine grabbed a beer from the mini fridge and flopped down onto the leather couch in the center of the room.

"What was _what _exactly?" he grumbled, chasing his words by a large drink of alcohol. Kurt entered the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, growling when the leg of his suit got caught in between the door and the frame. He reopened the door begrudgingly and shut in again quietly before responding.

"_I want you to be_," he mocked. Blaine smirked into his drink and began unbuttoning his silky dress shirt.

"You're just pissed that you didn't think of it first," he yelled over his shoulder, his shirt sliding off of his shoulders and pooling on the couch. Kurt pulled on his dress pants, kicking the door angrily as he did so.

"Are you kidding me?" He barked, "I knew you couldn't act but I thought you'd at least _try_ to make this look real." Blaine tossed his jeans somewhere across the room and grabbed his suit pants with an angry sigh.

"Just because you can't recognize talent doesn't mean I don't have it, _Hummel_." He growled, yanking on his pants, "You know that old saying 'it takes one to know one'? Yeah, that goes both ways sweetheart, you wouldn't know talent if it bit you in the-." A loud crash sounded from behind the bathroom door followed quickly by a handful of expletives that even Blaine hadn't heard leave the other man's mouth.

"Kurt?" the shorter man called, his brow creased with a frown, "Kurt, are you alright?" The only reply that passed through the door was a loud groan. Blaine jiggled the doorknob, his hand still gripping the waist of his undone slacks, swearing when he found it locked.

"Damn it, Hummel, you afraid I'm going to rape you or something?" he grumbled, slamming his shoulder into the door, groaning from both the impact and the fact that the door was still secured.

"Kurt, can you hear me?" Blaine demanded, his heart beating frantically and his head resting on his forearm against the door.

"Yeah," came the response, "shit that hurts, yeah, I can hear you."

"Can you open the door?" the other man asked, swallowing the sigh of relief that was bubbling up in his throat. There was shuffling on the other side of the door, accompanied by a string up curse words, before the lock clicked and Blaine was able to open the door. The pale man was sprawled out on the floor his head cradled in one hand and the other hand tucked against his chest.

"What hurts?" Blaine questioned, kneeling down next to his costar and raking his eyes over the other man's body, his gaze lingering a little too long the strip of pale skin that was exposed in between the hem of his undershirt and the waist of his suit pants. Kurt's muffled a groan as he attempted to sit up, his eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Blaine scrubbed a hand over his face, buttoning his pants as an afterthought, and scooped Kurt into his arms.

"If this is just you being fucking dramatic, again, I swear I will break your face." Blaine hissed, placing the other man on the couch and backing away. The door swung open and the producer breezed in with a stern look on her face.

"Which one of you idiots is going to ruin this for me?" she deadpanned, arms crossed over her rather large chest, "Jesus, Hummel, can't I have this one night?" Kurt winced, his palms pressed against his eyes.

"He slipped," Blaine offered dumbly, shrugging his shoulders.

"I didn't put up with a year and a half of you prima donnas and your inferior acting skills to have you fuck it up at the _premier_. Eighteen months on an island with angry natives and a pair of wannabe superstars with far too much sexual tension does not make me happy, boys. So, I don't care if you have to carry him into the theater and make the speech yourself, you both _will_ be there or, so help me, you will never work in the town again." She growled, glaring between the two men before pivoting on her heel and stalking out of the room.

"Scary bitch," Blaine grumbled under his breath as he grabbed another beer out of the mini fridge.

"I completely understand the absurd level of intoxication necessary to keep up with the charade, I would appreciate it if you could keep the alcohol consumption to minimum while lying here with a goddamn concussion," Kurt seethed, his hand resting on his forehead. Blaine sighed and knelt down next to the other man, pressing the cold bottle against Kurt's aching skull.

"I can do it," the paler man snapped, taking the bottle from his costar and holding it to his temple, "go put on a shirt, would you? Your lack of clothing is barbaric." Blaine glanced down at his bare chest and smirked, resting his arm on the back of the couch and leaning over the other man.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Mr. Hummel?" He inquired, his voice sultry and an eyebrow raised in the most seductive manner he could muster. Kurt turned away quickly, wincing at the pain that shot up his neck. Blaine chuckled and leaned closer into Kurt's side, his lips barely a centimeter away from the other man's ear.

"Oh _Kurt_, you flatter me," he whispered, batting his eyelashes as his hot breath fanned over the side of Kurt's face. Kurt suppressed a shiver and pressed his hand flat against Blaine's torso, the coarse hair slipping through his fingers and tickling his palm.

"You have absolutely no concept of personal space, do you?" he hissed, shoving Blaine off the couch and sitting up far too quickly. Kurt rolled the bottle of beer to the other man and stood up, slowly making his way toward the bathroom to finish getting dressed. Blaine popped open the beer and down most of it one go, his head swirling from lack of oxygen when he finally pushed himself off of the floor and began searching for his dress shirt and suit jacket.

"You have 10 minutes to get your asses out there," the producer yelled through the door just as Kurt put the finishing touches on his hair and Blaine readjusted the lapel on his jacket. Both men rechecked their appearances in the mirror one last time before linking hands and exiting the dressing room. The theater was a large, overly crowded room brimming with celebrities and socialites for across the country. The lights flickered and the pair took the stage at the head of the room, microphones clipped to their lapels.

"Good evening," Kurt greeted the crowd brightly, "it is an honor to have to you all here with us tonight."

"This is new to us," Blaine continued, "and our producer, stand up Shelia, told us if we didn't make a speech we'd never work again." He paused for laughter and winked over exaggeratedly, "Kidding aside, this movie was incredible to work on. I, no, we are completely humbled to have been a part of this amazing film."

"The story was inspiring," Kurt picked up, squeezing Blaine's hand, "it touched our hearts and we can only hope that we did the characters justice."

"We want to thank you, because," Blaine cut in, smiling over at Kurt, "beyond this film, beyond my music and Kurt's work on Broadway, you have supported us as both separate people and as a couple. You will never know how much it means to us to have such a strong support system."

"Equality has always been an issue in this country, like many others, and your support is just another step in the right direction. Another step toward gay marriage becoming legal throughout America, another step toward homosexuality being accepted rather than shunned, another step toward what freedom really means." Kurt continued, "You being here with us mean the world to me, because someday, I want to call this man my husband." The theater erupted in cheers, chants for the pair to kiss ringing in their ears. Both men were wide eyed, the jaws slack and heads swimming. Kurt tried to force out a snarky comment, only to find his voice caught in his throat and his lips pleasantly preoccupied. Blaine's hands gripped desperately at his costar's hips, his lips moving urgently over the other man's. Blood pounded in their ears, drowning out the cheers and shrieks that feel the auditorium, while their hearts hammer frantically at their ribcages. Maybe later Kurt would blame his words on the margaritas he'd consumed on the ride to the event; perhaps Blaine would whisper in his ear that it was all a publicity stunt while a flush rose in his cheeks. Quite possibly, after it was all said and done, after the movie had been released worldwide and the hype had died down, the couple would have a scandalous break up that would be the headline for every tabloid in America, just as the producers had instructed when the idea was first presented. But then again… none of that seemed very likely after the vows and rings were exchanged nearly three years later, mere days after gay marriage was legalized throughout the United States.


End file.
